


Open Your Eyes

by lyricalballads



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Memory Loss, Mystery, Reverse Chronology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26326201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalballads/pseuds/lyricalballads
Summary: Draco was pointing his wand at Harry's heart for a reason. The problem was, Harry couldn't remember what that reason was.In fact, he couldn't remember anything that had happened in the past seven days.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Kudos: 7





	Open Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on fanfiction.net in 2011, then took it down the following year because I wasn’t satisfied with it. Reading over it again, I admit it could use some revising, but I decided to post it back up anyway. 
> 
> This story is told in reverse order. (I was inspired by the movie _Momento_ when I wrote it.) So the chronology of events is in backwards order. Basically, you have to get to the end to find out how the story began. It takes place seven years before the _Deathly Hallows_ Epilogue, canon compliant for the most part.

Harry normally preferred having an office to himself, but the privacy was more of a curse than a blessing when he was faced with a wand pointed directly at his heart.

"It took me an entire week to find out it was you," Draco said, keeping a tight grip on his wand. "Everyone kept telling me it was classified Auror information, that I would find out everything when the official reports came out."

Harry didn't move an inch. He hardly dared to breathe too hard in case it set Draco off. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, they all tried to cover up your part in it. Even the Minister of Magic himself couldn't admit that Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, celebrated head of the Auror department, could botch up a mission so badly. Would you like to know who I finally talked to in order to get the answers I needed?"

Harry kept one hand in the pocket of his robes, grateful that he had his wand on him at all times. "No idea."

"Someone I believe you know quite well, Potter. Why, she's even shared your last name for the last several years."

"I don't know what's going on, but leave Ginny out of this," said Harry.

"Bit hypocritical of you, isn't it? Telling me to leave somebody close to you out of this, when you didn't have the decency to do the same to me." Draco wore a sneer that reminded Harry vividly of their school days at Hogwarts, when they were constantly at their each other's throats, and yet it wasn't the same sneer at all. Draco looked more tired and serious than he ever had before, and there was something haunted in his eyes that worried Harry even more than the wand pointed at his chest.

The two of them had been neutral towards each other since the war, neither friends nor enemies, and something truly serious must have happened to make Draco come into the office and threaten him. Draco was pointing his wand at Harry's heart for a reason. The problem was, Harry couldn't remember what that reason was.

In fact, he couldn't remember anything that had happened in the past seven days.

Draco's eyes bore into Harry's and the wand moved an inch closer. "I ought to finish you right where you stand, Potter. I've barely slept in a week because of you."

Yes, there was definitely a downside to working in a private office during an hour in which most of his colleagues were out. "Malfoy, you don't want to do this," said Harry, gripping his own wand inside his pocket in case things went awry. "Talk to Ron. I'm sure he knows the story of whatever you're on about."

"Weasley isn't the one who took something from me."

"I would appreciate it if you put the wand down and stopped speaking in riddles."

To Harry's surprise, Draco did lower his wand, though his face didn't look any less dangerous. "You really don't remember what you've done? Well then I'll tell you."

::

_One hour earlier_

He knew she only let him into the house out of pity. Draco would have preferred not to enter the house at all, but he needed answers and this was the best chance he had without going to Harry Potter himself, who would surely be as close-mouthed as the rest of the Ministry.

Ginny didn't bother to offer him tea and got straight to the point. "What are you doing here?"

"You know why I'm here," said Draco. "I sent you an owl."

"That doesn't mean I read the letter."

"You must have, otherwise you wouldn't have let me within twenty feet of your doorstep."

Ginny regarded him with a face he couldn't read, and Draco was aware of how unlucky he was that Harry had married a Weasley, of all people. The last family that Draco would ever want to seek help from, but he would rather be forced to look at Ginny than any of her brothers given the choice.

"What do you want to know?" Ginny asked after showing him to the front parlor.

"I want to know who's responsible. Nobody seems willing to breathe a word about the raid and since everyone involved who isn't behind bars is a bloody Auror, I've had no luck."

"It's still cl—"

"Classified information," Draco interrupted her. "I've heard that a dozen times. But I have a right to know."

Ginny hesitated, and Draco knew that if he played his cards right he could coax the answer out of her. His eyes fell upon a photograph framed upon the wall that featured three small children, the oldest no more than five, who smiled and poked at each other within the frame. "Scorpius just turned four a month ago," he said, pretending to sound offhanded. He wouldn't make this type of small talk without good reason, and they both knew it.

"What a coincidence." Ginny mimicked his casual tone as her eyes flicked towards the green-eyed boy in the photograph. "Same age as Albus."

"Must be hard for him having a father who puts his life on the line, fighting the Dark Arts. Boys take things hard when they're that age."

"Harry didn't mean to do it," Ginny said quietly, and Draco's biggest question suddenly had its answer.

::

_Three hours earlier_

"Ron, I keep telling you, this isn't normal forgetfulness. You don't just wake up and forget a whole week of your life."

"How do you know you've forgotten a whole week?" asked Ron. He and Harry shared cold pumpkin juice and sandwiches during their lunch hour, seated across from one another at Harry's spacious desk. "Probably just a lack of proper sleep, you know."

"I _do_ feel like I haven't slept right in days," Harry mused out loud. "And the house is heavily spelled against intruders; I don't see how anyone could have gotten in last night and jinxed me into being tired and forgetful."

"Well there you go," said Ron. "Bet it's the stress of the job getting to you. Maybe you should take a holiday somewhere before you wind up as a nervous wreck in a St. Mungo's ward."

Harry wasn't convinced and wondered if St. Mungo's was exactly the place he _ought_ to be. He couldn't shake off the fact that Ginny had suffered from periods of memory loss when Voldemort possessed her with his diary, but Voldemort had been gone for twelve years and Harry didn't remember encountering any dark objects—

But that was the problem. He couldn't _remember_. The last several days felt like a blur in which nothing significant had happened, which was ridiculous because excitement was hard to avoid when he was head of the Auror department. "Ron, did anything happen to me in the last several days? Something that I can't remember?"

"Trust me, mate, if anything had happened to you, I would know," Ron assured him. "You're fine."

But Harry felt the opposite of fine.

::

_That morning_

Harry woke up later than usual and felt dizzy from lack of sleep, which made absolutely no sense because he couldn't remember having a sleepless night in ages. In fact, he couldn't remember what he had done the night before at all and blamed it on his tiredness. It certainly wasn't the first time he had woken up feeling muddled, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Ginny was already in the bathroom, standing at the sink while her toothbrush levitated and did its job, and Harry stumbled past her to take a piss just like he did every morning without fail. He felt _odd_ in a way he couldn't explain, like he had woken up from an important dream and couldn't recall a single thing that had happened, leaving him feeling empty and unfulfilled.

Ginny's toothbrush finished its work and she rinsed her mouth out at the sink. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Tired," said Harry. Yawning, he finished up and belted his trousers, then cast an odd look in Ginny's direction. She normally didn't ask questions about his well-being unless he was sick or had a rough night on the job. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," said Ginny lightly, keeping her eyes focused on the mirror above the sink. "You just look a bit worn out, that's all."

Perhaps that was all. Perhaps Harry was just working too hard and the strain was taking its toll on him at last. He would eat some breakfast and see how he felt later on.

::

_Last evening_

Draco was running out of people to consult.

Ever since the fall of Voldemort twelve years ago, the capture of dark wizards didn't make as big of a stir as it did in the past, and the only ones who witnessed the raid on Friday night were the people involved. An article had appeared in Saturday morning's _Daily Prophet_ , of course, but it had omitted the names of the Aurors involved and offered few details.

Perhaps the Aurors involved wanted their names kept from the public for the sake of their personal safety, which was a common enough practice, but perhaps not. Either way Draco was determined to label the matter as suspicious.

Everyone told Draco not to meddle, of course. That knowing the name of the guilty party wouldn't change what had happened or make him feel any better. Even his own father refused to look into the matter, though it was mainly because his former influence no longer existed in most circles. Lucius Malfoy had gone into early retirement after the war, preferring to live a quiet life and keep a low profile, and he chose to leave Draco to investigate the incident on his own.

Then again, his father had never been the sympathetic type.

Draco paced his sitting room, thinking of all the people he had tried and failed to get information from. The only two he had steered clear of were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, who probably wouldn't help him for all the Galleons in the world, and Draco doubted they were heavily involved in the first place. If Potter had taken part in Friday night, then his name would have surely appeared in the papers, because even after twelve years the Wizarding World refused to grow tired of hearing about The Boy Who Lived.

But perhaps there was a way of questioning Potter without talking to him directly. His wife might be able to give him a lead if Draco forced himself to ask politely enough.

A sound near the sitting room doorway interrupted his thoughts and he turned to see a small, pale figure looking up at him. Scorpius had always been an unusually quiet boy and lately he was quieter than ever, which would have been worrying if Draco wasn't so eager for solitude.

"You should be in bed," said Draco.

Scorpius' face was solemn. "I can't sleep."

Draco had no argument for that, because Scorpius wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep at night.

::

_Two hours earlier_

"I don't think I can do it."

Hermione placed a reassuring hand on Ron's arm. "He gave us his consent."

"And I'm his best mate," said Ron. "The thought of actually going up to him and… I just know I'm going to bungle the whole thing somehow, and then he'll be even worse off than before."

"I've worked on the spell with you a dozen times—"

"You really ought to do it," said Ron, looking pale. "You're much better at this sort of thing anyway. Don't want Harry to end up like poor Professor Lockhart, do we?"

"If you insist." Hermione's mouth was set in a thin line; she gave Ron's hand a squeeze and grabbed her wand before entering the next room of the home she and Ron shared, wand held at the ready. Harry sat on a couch with his back towards her, flipping through a photo album that sat on the coffee table.

Hermione had a vivid memory of her parents sitting in much the same way all those years ago, unaware of what was about to hit them, and she tried to force the tears from springing to her eyes. This situation was different; Harry had asked for this favor out of desperation and given his consent.

In spite of her misgivings, Hermione's voice was strong as she pointed her wand at Harry and said, " _Obliviate._ "

::

_Yesterday_

"They're still keeping my name out of the papers," Harry muttered, pushing aside an issue of the _Daily Prophet_. "Like it's the scandal of the century."

"They kept _all_ our names out," Ron reminded him.

"Yeah, because of me. If Malfoy knew I was involved he would start a petition demanding that I resign from the Auror office."

"You should be glad your name hasn't gotten out anywhere, Harry. I mean, just imagine if Rita Skeeter got a hold of that information."

Harry could imagine it all too clearly. "I can see the headline now: 'Boy Who Lived Grows Up to Become Accidental Murderer'. She would love to put out a story like that."

"Hey." Ron's face was deadly serious as he looked at Harry. "Don't be so hard on yourself. It's not like you did it on purpose or anything."

"I cast the spell," Harry insisted. "It doesn't matter if I meant any serious harm or not."

The two of them fell silent and sipped their lukewarm cups of tea, while a set of chimes in Harry's office announced that break time would be over soon. Ron was the first one to break the silence.

"Do you reckon Malfoy contacted Zabini at all? I know Zabini's in Azkaban for what he did to those Muggles, but still, Malfoy could have found a way to question him if he wanted to badly enough."

Harry shook his head. "If Malfoy had talked to Zabini, he would have confronted me by now. Besides, Malfoy might have found out what Zabini was up to behind his back."

"In that case, they better keep Azkaban heavily guarded. If I were Malfoy, Blaise Zabini would be a dead man."

"But what if Malfoy doesn't know?" Harry asked. "Do you think he has a right to the whole truth?"

Ron didn't have an answer.

::

_That morning_

Draco wasn't surprised that he wasn't allowed to have contact with any of Friday night's culprits, but he was still annoyed, nonetheless. Given his family history, the authorities probably deemed any contact with the culprits to be dangerous, and Draco wasn't stupid enough to let himself get throw in prison as well. He wouldn't deprive Scorpius of a halfway normal home life.

Seven more years and the boy would be off to Hogwarts. It used to feel like a lifetime of waiting, but now that day couldn't possibly come soon enough.

Draco strode into his office after offering forced, tight-lipped smiles to his colleagues as he passed them in the Ministry's Atrium, and when he sat down at his desk his eyes fell upon the newspaper clipping that served as a daily reminder that someone out there needed to be brought to justice.

The clipping was from Saturday morning's issue of the _Daily Prophet_ and contained a brief summary of Friday's night's incident, a list of the captured culprits, and the name of a single casualty: Astoria Malfoy, age twenty-seven.

::

_Last night_

For the fifth night in a row, Harry couldn't sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes and tried to relax, the memories of his mistake came back to haunt him and he wondered how he could continue doing his job when he had such guilt hanging over his head.

It had all happened so fast, he didn't get a chance to react until it was all over. He hadn't felt such a deep sense of regret since his school days, and Draco Malfoy may have been his biggest enemy growing up, but he would never wish to harm him this way.

If only that balcony hadn't been there.

Harry's involvement had been kept quiet so that only the Aurors involved knew the whole story, but people were starting to notice that Harry was more tired and melancholy than usual. He felt a bit like a criminal who had gone into hiding, which made the guilt even more painful, but he didn't come forth with the truth for fear of how it would affect the reputations of his family members. He couldn't imagine how it would affect Albus, who adored him.

Thinking of Albus only reminded him of another little boy who was the same exact age, a boy who didn't deserve all that had happened. He was young enough to forget in time, but old enough to feel the pain.

The thought of Scorpius was the last straw. Harry got out of bed, careful not to wake Ginny, and penned a letter to Ron. He was better off forgetting, or else he would never learn to forgive himself.

_Ron,_

_I have an important favor to ask of you…_

::

_Yesterday_

Draco arrived at his parents' home after work to collect Scorpius. While Scorpius was outside in the yard chasing the peacocks around, the closest thing to playing he had done all week, Draco confronted his father again about finding the truth.

"You know it was a good-for-nothing Auror who did it," said Lucius. "I don't see what difference a name would make."

Draco felt a twinge of annoyance. He had looked up to this man throughout his entire childhood and expected him to take a little more interest in such a serious matter, but his father had retired from more than just his job. After the war he retired from society as well.

"Auror or not, the person responsible isn't being punished for what happened," said Draco. "And I simply can't live with that. I need answers, Father."

"Forget about the Aurors," said Lucius. "You should be more concerned with why your wife was at that house on that particular night. You've already begun to gather suspicion."

"I swear I didn't know that Zabini and the others were involved in that sort of thing, and I'm sure Astoria didn't know either. I wouldn't have maintained my friendship with them otherwise."

"There's still the matter of reputation to consider. Next thing you know, your own home will be the one that's raided the moment you let down your guard."

"I've barely had a decent reputation as it is, thanks to our family history, Father. Twelve years of legitimate respectable behavior and the rest of the community still looks askance at me."

"And now my grandson will be shunned by society thanks to this incident," said Lucius.

Draco looked at his father coldly. "I will do everything in my power to prevent that. Now I would like to take Scorpius home with me, if you don't mind."

Scorpius came indoors a few moments later, quiet and reserved as he approached Draco. With his white-blonde hair and gray eyes, he was all Malfoy as far as looks were concerned, and for the first time in four years Draco regretted that fact.

::

_Half an hour earlier_

Harry shut himself up in his office and used three different protection spells to ensure that nobody would disturb him. If one more colleague tried to tell him that accidents happened even to the best of wizards, he might end up doing something else regrettable.

Even Ron wasn't allowed anywhere near his office, and Ron was the only person in the whole Ministry he could confide in.

He half-expected Malfoy to come barging into his office demanding explanations, but it had been three days already and Harry saw no sign of him anywhere. Ron told him that Malfoy had been snooping around all day, trying to find answers, but his search must have been unsuccessful or else Harry's door would have been blasted open by now.

Harry didn't blame him, really. His former enemy was suffering in a way he didn't deserve and for the first time in his life, Harry felt like he was in the wrong and Malfoy was in the right.

It was one of the most uncomfortable experiences he had ever had.

::

_One hour earlier_

Ron was relieved that none of the Aurors who had been present on Friday night blamed Harry. Nobody had seen that damned balcony and besides, if Harry hadn't cast the spell then somebody else would have sooner or later. Harry had taken the incident hard, though, and he had been beating himself up over it ever since.

And Harry wasn't the only person in the Ministry who walked around as if the world was ending. Ron never thought he would ever feel sorry for Draco Malfoy, of all people, but he supposed that even the bitterest rivalry didn't matter much in a situation like this.

Every time Ron looked at Malfoy though, he didn't just feel that strange, unexpected sense of pity. He also felt curiosity; a curiosity that came from the fact that Ron possessed information aside from Harry's role in Friday night. Information that Malfoy may or may not have already. Information just as devastating as the incident itself.

Did Malfoy know the truth about his wife? It was difficult to tell, but Ron was willing to bet that he didn't.

Ron knew the truth because he was the one who had personally questioned Blaise Zabini with the use of Veritaserum, and if circumstances had been different he would have spread this new-found information without an ounce of remorse. Instead he only told Harry and sent Zabini into the custody of Azkaban.

One thing was certain: Ron dearly thanked Merlin that he wasn't Draco Malfoy.

::

_Yesterday_

"She isn't coming back?" Scorpius asked, his gray eyes wide as he looked up at Draco.

"No," Draco said quietly. "She isn't coming back."

"How come?"

Draco briefly considered giving Scorpius the usual cock-and-bull excuses that were fed to small children, but then decided against it. "Somebody took her away from us, and I'm going to do all I can to find out who it was."

This seemed to satisfy Scorpius, who nodded his small head with the same wide-eyed expression, and Draco felt a lump form in his throat. Astoria had been buried that morning in the prestigious family plot, leaving Draco with another problem aside from his thirst for vengeance.

Scorpius was entirely in his care now, and he had no idea what to do.

::

_Last night_

Harry came home late from yet another meeting concerning Friday night's raid and found Ron sitting at his kitchen table, looking exhausted over a cup of tea. It struck Harry that the incident had been a mere twenty-four hours ago, and as much as he wanted to fall into bed and pretend to live a normal life, he couldn't erase last night's haunting images from his brain.

He sank into a seat across from Ron and forced himself not to collapse right there on the table. "You question Zabini?" he asked Ron.

"Yeah," said Ron. He suddenly looked uncomfortable and tapped his fingers idly against the side of his mug.

"How'd it go?"

"Most of what he told me was stuff we had guessed at already. Except for one thing, and you've got to promise you don't spread this around, all right?"

Harry was so worn out he would have promised anything right then and there. "Sure, what is it?"

Ron leaned in a little closer. "You know how we thought it was odd for Malfoy's wife to be hanging around Zabini and his friends that night? Well she's innocent of any dark magic, just as we thought, but she wasn't just on a friendly visit either."

"It's bad, isn't it?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, it's pretty bad."

::

_That morning_

Draco hadn't slept all night. Scorpius still didn't understand what had happened and played innocently in his room, thankfully quiet so that Draco could be alone with his thoughts.

He had been told that last night was an accident, but that didn't change the fact that the deed had been done and somebody out there was at fault, whether it was intentional or not. It was probably some foolish novice, fresh out of Auror training, who had done the deed, but Draco wouldn't rest until he had a name.

An issue of the _Daily Prophet_ had arrived twenty minutes before, and Draco almost didn't have the nerve to read through the article that finalized everything and made it a reality. Those printed words still haunted him, but he couldn't bring himself to throw out the paper or set it aflame with his wand. No, he needed a reminder of what the Auror department had done to him and Scorpius.

The names from the article kept running through his mind, names that he had considered friends not long before. Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson. He thought they had become respectable after the war, but he supposed he should have known that none of them would ever learn from what happened twelve years ago. None of them had experienced what Draco had experienced; their lives and the lives of their parents were never seriously at stake like the Malfoys' were.

Astoria couldn't possibly have known that their friends were secretly up to their old tricks. Draco had told the authorities repeatedly that Astoria occasionally dined with their old classmates while he spent time with Scorpius and gave her a night off from looking after him, and that was exactly what had happened last night.

She was an innocent casualty, and the person responsible would pay.

::

_Friday night_

Harry was sick.

His head spun and he could hardly bring himself to inspect the body situated about five feet in front of him, but of course he already had a feeling what the verdict would be. Nobody could possibly land that way on the hard stone patio and survive.

Ron hovered nearby, looking pale as he waited for Harry. "You want me to have a look?"

"No," said Harry, sounding stronger than he felt. "It's my responsibility." He stuffed his wand into the pocket of his robes, wishing he had forgotten the damned thing at home, and approached the woman that lay sprawled on the ground with her head at an awkward angle. As Harry drew closer he fervently hoped that perhaps he had looked at her features wrong, that perhaps she wasn't who he thought she was, but his hopes were dashed the moment he got up close.

Harry's face was grimmer than ever as he looked at Ron. "Someone needs to write a letter to Draco Malfoy."

::

_Fifteen minutes earlier_

The third floor of Blaise Zabini's stately home was chaos at the moment.

Aurors burst into the room, wands held at the ready, while three wizards and two witches—Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and a witch Harry thought he recognized—stood near a couple of dazed looking Muggles.

"Wands down," Harry ordered, looking directly at Zabini, who he assumed to be the ringleader.

The somewhat familiar witch—was she Malfoy's wife?—slowly backed up, looking nervous, until she was right in front of a balcony that overlooked the yard. Zabini, meanwhile, sneered at Harry and his team of Aurors, refusing to lower his wand.

"You expect every wizard in the land to simply obey you without question, don't you, Potter?" he asked, his dark eyes glinting at Harry.

"I don't want to fight you," said Harry. "You can come quietly."

Too late. Zabini raised his wand higher and Ron immediately shouted, " _Stupefy!_ " at him, stunning him where he stood.

More chaos broke out. Spells flew back and forth between Aurors and Zabini's allies, while the dazed Muggles put their heads in their hands and pretended they were elsewhere. The witch by the balcony looked alarmed the moment the stunning spell hit Zabini and brandished her wand, ready to shoot a curse in Ron's direction.

Harry acted on instinct, aiming his wand at her so fast he barely knew he was doing it. " _Expelliarmus!_ " His spell hit the witch dead-on, knocking her wand from her hand as she fell backward against the balcony.

Only she didn't stop there, like she was supposed to. She hit the balcony at a strange angle and went over, falling down, down onto the patio below, and Harry couldn't hear it but he knew there would be a horrible thump at the end.

The turmoil let up until Pansy Parkinson pointed her wand at Harry and shrieked, "You've killed her!"

::

_Back to the present_

"That can't be true," said Harry, though in his heart he suspected that it was.

"Why would I invent a story about you coming to arrest a group of my old school mates, who I believed to be respectable all this time, and casting a spell at my wife that ultimately killed her?" said Draco. "You know I don't need to find an excuse to dislike you, Potter. You've always provided plenty of reasons on your own."

"Your story might be true, but I still don't remember a bit of it," said Harry. "Punish me if you like, but I don't see much satisfaction in harming a man who can't even remember what he did."

The hard expression in Draco's eyes didn't change. "Your wife seemed to know a good deal when I questioned her. The rest of your department obviously knows something, or else they wouldn't be so close-mouthed. Perhaps _you're_ the one who needs to talk to Weasley."

Weasley. Ron. Harry thought back to every conversation they had shared that day, every time Ron had deflected his questions and withheld information, and he knew what he had to do, even though it involved trespassing on the person he trusted most in the world.

"Wait right here," he told Draco, keeping a firm grip on his wand.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," said Draco.

"No funny business then."

"None from you either."

Harry agreed and traveled the short distance to Ron's office, breaking past all the protective enchantments that he himself had put in place. There wasn't any time to contact Ron himself; Draco might do something rash if he didn't get answers soon, and besides, Ron might withhold information like he had undoubtedly done all along.

No, there was surely another way to lend credibility to Draco's story and find answers that both of them needed. Every Auror kept a private log of his or her activities, intended to be a personal record, but as head of the department Harry had access to each and every one in case anything happened to the record's owner. It didn't take long for him to access Ron's activity log and he flipped through the pages, Draco hovering at his shoulder all the while.

There. An entry dated from Thursday evening, just last night. _Memory charm cast upon Harry Potter with his consent. Has no recollection of the past week._

Harry felt a chill run through him.

Another entry, dated from Tuesday. _Received a request from Harry Potter. Was asked to modify his memory of Friday night._

Harry couldn't remember doing any such thing, but of course that all made sense now. His fingers trembling, he flipped back the pages until his eyes landed upon an entry made on Saturday, the day following the incident.

_Questioned Blaise Zabini with Veritaserum. Zabini confessed to performing the Cruciatus Curse on a pair of Muggles multiple times, with the help of Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson. Also confessed to having an affair with Astoria Malfoy for the last six months._

Harry's eyes froze upon the words "affair with Astoria Malfoy" and he shut the activity log, hoping Draco hadn't seen it.

One look at Draco's face told him that he had.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"I don't need your apologies," said Draco.

"Still going to finish me off?" Harry asked quietly. "Going to avenge all the havoc I apparently wreaked upon your perfect little life?"

Draco didn't respond, and Harry knew there wouldn't be any more drawing of wands that evening. The two of them would never be allies, but they had both been kept in the dark without even realizing it.

"Sometimes people aren't who you think they are," Draco said.

"No," Harry agreed, thinking of all those actions he couldn't remember. "They definitely aren't."


End file.
